Our Toil Strive To Mend
by rvr idtq
Summary: Percy leaves his ministry job after the death of Crouch for a teaching position at Hogwarts and gets roped into sponsoring a backwards production of Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet."
1. Prologue

"Our Toil Strive To Mend"

-A Harry Potter Mishap- 

Disclaimer: Okay, I usually don't do formal disclaimers, but for this one I think I should. I don't own "Romeo and Juliet" or any of the Harry Potter stuff and if I did I would be rich and would be too busy being famous to write fan fics.

A/N: All right, I haven't been around for a while, and I know I've promised a lot of upcoming stories. All of those are still in production, but I'm starting this one to let out a little end of school year steam. Now, before I begin, I'd like to say that I love Percy dearly, and I really don't enjoy his suffering, but it was necessary for the plot. I do, however, dislike Lavender and Parvati somewhat, and so if you happen to be especially fond of them you might not enjoy this story so much.

Prologue

-In Which A Semi-Evil Plot Is Born, And Percy Has A Prophetic Dream-

"Two household, both alike in dignity,

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

From forth the fatal loins of these two foes

A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;

Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows

Do with their death bury their parents' strife.

The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,

And the continuance of their parents' rage,

Which but their children's end naught could remove,

Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;

The which, if you with patient ears attend,

What here shall miss our toil shall strive to mend."

In a seemingly normal theater, in a seemingly normal location somewhere in the vicinity of London, a seemingly normal production of Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet" had begun. As the seemingly normal actors and actresses performed this great work of literature, they were unaware of three seemingly normal girls sitting in the audience. Of the three girls, two would soon begin something seemingly normal that was neither seemingly or normal and that would bring terror to the heart of one seemingly normal young man with red hair, glasses, and freckles.

"I've had the most fantastic idea!" shrieked Lavender as the actors took their last bows.

"Really?" asked Padma sleepily. Maybe the late show hadn't been such a good idea what with school starting again tomorrow, she thought as she tried to stay awake. It was no use. She slumped down in her seat, but the other two ignored her.

"What is it?" asked Parvati as her sister began to snore.

"We could do the play- at Hogwarts!"

"And have auditions and perform it and everything!"

"All we would need is some copies of the play, but that shouldn't be too hard."

"We could call ourselves "The Gryffindor Theater Company" or something."

"But would they let us?"

"If we got a teacher to sponsor it or something, I'm sure they would."

"It would have to be a former Gryffindor if it was only our house"

"McGonagall?"

"No, she'd never buy it."

"Then who?"

The two girls shook the third awake and left the theater, pondering the prospect of a suitable sponsor.'

Meanwhile, far away from the still fairly normal theater and the not in the slightest bit normal girls, but only moments after their plan was devised, a young man shot up in bed, sweat pouring over his eyes.

"Only a dream," he muttered to himself as he fumbled for his glasses. "Only a dream."

He slid the horn-rimmed glasses up over his nose and turned on lamp. His room was exactly as it had been when he had fallen asleep, but he couldn't shake the sickening feeling his dream had left hanging over his head. He couldn't remember anything from itexcept that there had been two girls.

"Have some breakfast, Perce," said Ginny as she passed him a plate of bacon.

"Hmmm?" He blinked several times as though he was coming out of a trance. In fact he was coming out of a trance. At least it seemed like a trance, but trances are mysterious things and very difficult to define in the best of cases.

"You all right?" asked Ron with some semblance of concern. He really did care for Percy, but at that particular moment he had other thoughts on his mind, including a certain bushy haired girl who was most likely off somewhere being given a brand new toothbrush and floss by her parents who just happened to be avid dentists. 

"Of course I am," said Percy quickly. Molly Weasley walked over to the table.

"Are you taking the train up, Percy?" she asked before yelling up to the twins to hurry up.

"I think so mother, if it's not too much trouble for you." The twins thundered down the stairs.

"Of course it's no trouble, dear," said George in a perfect imitation of their mother as he, along with Fred, strode into the kitchen.

"Yes, Percy dear. It would never be any trouble," continued Fred.

"Shove it you two," muttered Percy as he played with his food. The twins looked surprised.and proud it seemed. Hearing Percy drop his almighty air long enough to say something nasty was a rare and special family moment. If he did it often enough, he might actually loosen up enough to be fun. Little did they know that in only a few hours, a group of events so riddled with misfortune that they might even be referred to as a series of unfortunate events would be beginning, and these events would change dear old Percy quite a bit. As to whether the change would make him more fun to be around, only the author (myself) knows, and I'm not telling. Besides, I happen to think Percy is quite fun as he is,

Percy, his dream now forgotten, sat quite pleasantly in his compartment on the Hogwarts Express reviewing his notes. Actually, he was reading a very funny book about a very odd Irish boy who was trying to swindle a bunch of fairies, but he was a bit embarrassed of his fondness for muggle literature. He was therefore anxious to hide it by putting the book inside a notebook so it would look like he was reviewing notes. There was a knock at the door.

"Er, come in," he said as he sat up straight and tried to smooth a few wrinkles out of his robes while shoving the book under his seat.

"Professor?" It was a pair of girls.

"Oh, yes?" He felt funny being called professor. He supposed he must get used to it eventually

"We were wondering if you might be interested in sponsoring a" stumbled the first girl.

"An extra curricular muggle studies project," finished the second girl.

"You're both in Ron's year aren't you?" asked Percy absentmindedly. The girls squirmed a bit.

"Yes, but, um, will you sponsor it?"

"Yes, of course," he muttered. He waited for them to leave and then fished his book out from under his seat. Unfortunately, he was too busy reading about a particularly exciting bit about a battle with a troll to realize the severity of this agreement just yet.


	2. Act 1 Scene 1

A/N: Since ff.net has been down for a while I've had time to get these first two chapters together and ready to post at the same time. After these, however, I'm not sure how long it will be between chapters. In the mean time, I really recommend the novel The Truth (by Terry Pratchett) to anyone reading this. I especially recommend to anyone that, like me, had an English program this past year in school that was comprised entirely of books where at least one person died a terrible and depressing death because The Truth is far from depressing and very entertaining. It also is the sort of book that makes you think about things at a different angle, although it skips the dreary contemplation that many authors use to achieve that effect. (And no, I am in no way affiliated with Mr. Pratchett. I merely like the book.)

Act 1 Scene 1

-In Which Auditions Begin And Twins Have Great Fun-

"But we don't want to be Sampson and Gregory," explained George.

"Yes," continued Fred, "they're only in one scene."

"And all they do is talk about sex and then jump around with swords for a bit."

"Where's the drama? Where's the excitement? There isn't any!"

"Just a couple of dirty jokes, that's all."

"Not to say we have a problem with dirty jokes."

"No, not at all."

"We just want better parts."

"You don't have any parts yet," interrupted Parvati. "You're only auditioning."

"We might not even give you parts," said Lavender angrily as she stepped up to the twins with her hands on her hips.

It is important to take a moment here to examine the courage shown here on Lavender's part. Some people may think that Lavender does not have the sort of courage that Gryffindor house is known for. However, we must consider her situation thoroughly. Fred and George Weasley are in most cases very good tempered, and their most dominant feature is their sense of humor. Of course their sense of humor really complicated things even more because no one was really sure whether they are really angry or just acting. In any case, whether they are acting or not, the twins can be very frightening when they are being angry, as they were at this particular moment in the story. They were both taller than Lavender by a good 10 inches or so, and the simple fact that there were two of them and only one of Lavender was quite intimidating in itself. If I were in her situation, I probably would have laughed, as that is what I do in most situations, but my brother would most certainly have soiled his underwear. Lavender stood her ground though, and so did the twins.

"Yes, well, I believe we're not welcome here," declared George.

"I think we should leave, dear brother."

"Clearly our talents are not appreciated by thisthis second rate theater company."

"We'll find work elsewhere."

"Yes, I hear the Ravenclaws are doing a production of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream.'"

The twins made to leave, and Parvati glanced hurriedly around the common room at the very small group of people that had shown up for the audition. There were barely enough people for all the parts if they took everyone that was there- including the twins. 

"Wait," she said just before the twins left through the portrait hole. "What parts do you want?"

The twins grinned identical evil grins.

"Well," began George casually, "I was thinking of something along the lines of Mercutio."

"And I," continued Fred, "was looking for something in the range of, say, Tybalt."

"Fine," sighed Lavender.

"You mean we don't have to audition now?" asked George innocently. 

"I think that your performance just now displayed your acting skills well enough," said Percy, speaking for the first time. He hadn't looked up from his copy of the play as he spoke, and it was slightly unnerving since most people had forgotten he was even there. Dennis Creevey, who had been sitting on the back of a sofa and had been pretty much staring out into space up to that point, made a funny sort of squeaking noise and fell backwards onto the sofa. 

"What do you think you're doing back there?" asked Ron from the sofa as he glared at Percy. Generally, it is not very polite to glare at someone. However, when a very excitable twelve-year-old falls backwards into your lap because your older brother scared him just now, most people would agree that you were perfectly justified in glaring at your brother for a bit. Such was the case with Ron.

"Sorry," muttered Percy as he slunk back into his armchair. He buried his head back in the play, which was really a very intelligent thing to do as Ron's bad moods most often led to some fairly developed bickering, generally between him and the closest person who crazy enough to argue back. Fortunately for the tiny seed of distemper hiding in Ron's morose expression, Ron happened to be sharing the sofa with Hermione.

"So what is it again that I'm here for?" groaned Ron.

"Don't you want to be in the play?" whispered Hermione.

"Not particularly."

"But it's by Shakespeare!"

"But it's being directed by those two!"

"I thought you didn't mind them. Parvati at least."

"And what would possibly give you that idea?"

"You took her sister to the ball last year."

"Do you want to start that up again? Do you?"

"Yes, actually."

Lavender shook her head with the air of someone dealing with a large group of chimpanzees with very poor manners. Of course this was not the case, and therefore her air was completely inappropriate just as it would have been inappropriate to break up such a good quarrel. Unfortunately, this is precisely what she did. However, it is possible to forgive her actions because the ensuing scene was even better than fight had been.

"Ron," began Lavender, "and Hermione- you two are up now."


	3. Act 1 Scene 2

Chapter whatever we're on now- A Turn for the Worser

a/n: More parody than was ever necessary and not enough plot to choke a mouse. Seriously. Turn back while you can. Or stick around. Catch the Draco Veritas parody, win a Kewpie doll. Happy holidays as well.

Colin Creevey swore.

He swore loudly and passionately and as no one had ever heard him swear before.

Colin Creevey swore because Colin Creevey had left his camera in his trunk that morning.

But no one- not even prim and proper Percy- did so much as raise an eyebrow at this mousey-haired eruption of profanity. People will often say that an expression was "priceless." Colin, however, knew that if he had only managed to bring his camera he would have been a very rich man.

Whereas it took Colin only the briefest of moments to produce 37 vibrant seconds* of obscenities to express his disgust in his own lack of foresight, it rapidly became clear to those present that even a slightly accurate description of the source of his dismay would involve careful thought and would take, most assuredly, more that 37 seconds to divulge. There simply were no words in the English language that could properly communicate the expressions that flooded the faces of Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. However, it is now to this task that I devote my energies. 

Several years ago while on a school trip to an art museum, I spotted, just on the edge of my vision, a painting that took my breath away so sharply it was all I could do to grunt and point. When I finally regained my speech and tried to explain what I had seen to several friends, I could not make them understand why the painting had temporarily reduced me to the mental capacity of an orangutan. In desperation, I grabbed the arm of the nearest one of them and dragged her (with the others following bewilderedly) into the room where the painting hung. And then there were half a dozen gibbering orangutans.

Thus, the only way I could make you, the reader of this tragic tale, understand the full complexity of this scene would be to grab you sharply by the arm and drag you into the common room at that very moment. But it is my burden that I cannot do this, so I must try and explain things some other way.

(You might want to take a nice, deep breath here for effect.)

Everyone has, or knows someone that has a tee shirt that is the tee shirt to end all tee shirts. It is comfortable, fits absolutely perfectly (at least in the mind of the owner), and often carries some sort of deep symbolic meaning that only a select few can comprehend. If Lavender had taken Ron's tee-shirt**, fed it to a dysenteric goat, and then locked the remains in a galvanized steel safe with a hoard of demonic moths (all the while broadcasting the ordeal on every major media outlet, muggle and magical), she might have been able to recreate his expression as she shoved an open playbook into his hands. To simply say that he looked shocked and horrified would be like calling Hagrid "a large-ish sort of person."

Hermione's face, however, was contorted in a bizarre amalgamation of emotions that really shouldn't have even been within the same species, let alone the same face. Her ears had flicked back, distinctly reminding Harry of the look his Aunt Marge's dog Ripper always gave him before he tried to tear off one of Harry's appendages. Her eyes, however, had widened noticeably and seemed to quiver in the light with tears. Dean Thomas stood up on a chair to get a better look at the situation and suddenly had a vision of an small, animated woodland creature that had just found out its second-cousin-twice-removed-on-its-mother's-side had been lost in a mining accident. He later dismissed the image as a by-product of too little sleep and too many butterbeers. Seamus remarked to one the Creeveys (he was still too shocked by the scene to be sure which one) that she looked like a trout with indigestion. I can only assume that he was referring to the bloated, gasping look of the lower half of her face. 

I'm not exaggerating at all. Really, I'm not. As far as third-person narrators go, you're not going to find one much more dead serious than I am. Scout's honor, pinkie swear, cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my pie^.

In any case, Ron and Hermione were not in the best of shape as they glanced nervously at the playbooks that had mysteriously appeared in their hands.

"So," began Ron in a desperate attempt to stall, "what parts are we reading then?"

"What parts do you think?"

"Sampson and Gregory?" Sadly, the life of Ron's attempt at humor in the face of adversity was violently cut short by the daggers coming out of Lavender's eyes. 

"The playbook should already be open to the part you want to read." Parvati's tone was surprisingly cheerful, all things considered. 

"Eh?" Ron's playbook had conveniently turned itself upside down when no one was looking. It was returned to its original state by what appeared to Ron to be a very rude dragon that looked remarkably like Parvati without the cheerful tone. The dragon then pointed at the beginning of a line in the way that dragons point at things when they want to make it very clear that they are not to be messed with. 

"I'm not reading that!" (Ron's really an oblivious sort.)

"Yes. You are."

"I don't have to if I don't want to!"

"Yes. You do."

"This is fascism! Whatever happened to democracy! Whatever happened to adult supervision!"

"Just shut up and read the part!" whispered Hermione. She elbowed him in the stomach hard.

"Oi! Percy! You're doing a lovely job of supervising all this!" Not only was Ron having one of his more oblivious days, he was also extremely desperate. Amongst the Weasley children, Percy was nearly always at the bottom of the "people to ask for help," the general assumption being that his idea of help was to go tell someone who was older, wiser, and more likely to punish the involved parties. But in his moment of need, this was exactly what Ron wanted him to do. Even detention dusting the doilies in Snape's boudoir as Snape read aloud (and performed appropriate voices for) the sensual twelfth chapter of "Lustful Lederhosen"º would have been better than having to read that play.

Percy had buried his head in his copy of the place for the third time when Ron began his fit of desperation. At first, he tried to tell himself that Ron couldn't have possibly been yelling at him. Then, he tried to tell himself that Ron didn't really mean for him to interfere. But when Ron made a sudden dash across the room and began beating him in the head with the play, Percy was fairly certain that Ron did intend for him to interfere.

"What's is it then?"

"Please tell these-" He shuddered briefly. "-shrieking viragos that participation in this debacle is not-" He paused for effect and glared wrathfully at each person in the room. (Subtlety has never been his forte, and it can't if you want to get anything done when you have five older, extremely loud brothers.) "-manditory."

"Why are you here?" asked Percy, vaguely amused by Ron's suddenly expanded vocabulary and released penchant for the dramatic. 

"What?"

"You didn't _have_ to come."

"Oh, well..." He cast around for an answer. "You know, Harry and Hermione and everyone really but those pratty first years is here, and anyway, I thought it'd be funny."

"They're not that bad really."

"Who?"

"The first years. I have them in my entry level potions class."

"Is that what you teach then- potions?"

"Only first and second years. And some other substitutions. Did you think I did nothing?"

"Mostly. Anyway, they _are_ horrible and you know it."

"Who?"

"The first years. They have a secret society sort of and they won't even talk to anyone else."

"What a pity, Ron. The firsties won't let you join their little club," said Seamus with more than the necessary amount of sarcasm.

"Shut up, Finnegan. I just want to know what they're up to." 

"You just want to beat them at chess."

"No I don't! And no one else'll play with me!"

"I wonder why."

"Shut up. Anyway, Perce, they won't go away. I tried closing my eyes, but they were still there when I opened them."

"So tell them no."

"That didn't work either."

"The twins seemed to manage fine."

"Yes, but there's two of them, and they specialize in revenge."

"That is true."

"Make them go away!"

"Go away then."

"But we don't want to," moaned Parvati.

"Then stay."

"Okay," said Parvati, turning to look menacingly at Ron.

"Where's the Percy that once I knew?" cried Ron. "The Percy that ruined the best parties Hogwarts'd ever seen! The iron fist of Gryffindor! The anal pencil-up-his-arse wet blanket of doom!"

"He died a slow and painful death as all he held dear came crashing down around him," sighed Percy.

"What?"

"Sorry. Wrong fic."

"Oh. Okay. That happens sometimes."

"Just read the damn play, Ron."

"You're not in this, Potter, but if you want to take this outside..."

"Just read the damn play, Ron," groaned Percy.

"Not you too!"

"Shut up. No one cares anymore."

And no one did. I don't at least anymore and I strongly suspect that their verbal wanderings weren't exactly riveting for your either.

Ron sighed (loudly and extremely noticeably) and opened his playbook to the page Parvati had been yelling about.

"Ekil -sid eeht rethie fi ,tnias riaf ,rehtien," mumbled Ron.

"Stop reading it upside down, idiot," groaned Hermione.

"Was it? I hadn't noticed."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's all gibberish anyway."

"No it's not!"

"Have you ever, and don't lie, said 'wherefore' in casual conversation?"

"I might."

"No you won't."

"Shut up."

"You."

"I said you first."

"I don't care. And go to hell, Finnegan, by the way."

"Do you want to take this outside, Weasley?"

"I've got Potter scheduled for today, but I can fit you in around noon tomorrow."

"Fine. Who's your second?"

"Potter."

"But what if you've killed him by then?" asked a Creevey.

"He won't kill him," sneered Seamus.

"Yes I will. _And _I'll bring him back to life in time for tomorrow. Who's yours?"

"Your Aunt Tilly. Dean, stupid."

"Witty bastard. All I meet are witty bastards," groaned Ron.

"Are you going to read the play?" asked several disgruntled people at once with varying degrees of frustration.

"No."

"But Ron-" began Hermione.

"You read if you want. I'm not participating in this mess."

"There's extra credit for it," said Hermione.

"Nice try."

"200 points."

"Uh huh…"

"You wouldn't even have to pass the next three quizzes."

Ron's ears twitched. "Really?"

"Yup. You could sleep for a month straight if you wanted to."

Ron's face contorted in reflection of an intense inner struggle. If he agreed to participate, he would loose all dignity and self-respect. But if he did, he could slack off even more.

"Fine. I'll do the damn play. But I won't audition."

"Oh, who cares," muttered Parvati. "We figured out who we'd put as what days ago."

"Then what was this!" shrieked Ron.

"We just thought it'd be fun."

"Cruel wenches! Merely a clever ruse! Alas, ye shall live to regret the day you crossed-"

"-the flaming eejit," cut in Seamus, casting an evil look at Ron.

"I was going to say Scarlet Pimpernel, but that works as well," scowled Ron.

"How do you know about the Scarlet Pimpernel?" asked Hermione, he eyes narrowing in that patented look of suspicion.

"Er…plot hole?" He smiled sheepishly.

Percy sighed. "But I'm the Scarlet Pimpernel…" he whispered.

*According to the calculations of Mr. Dennis Creevey.

**Which, by the way, is a Chudley Cannons shirt that's about a size too small and hasn't been washed in approximately two and a half years by most conservative 

estimates.

^You can't honestly expect me to give a bunch of strangers permission to spear my eye on a sharp metal object, can you?

ºI've never actually been in Snape's boudoir, but "Lustful Lederhosen" is Eventide Daybreak's latest Bavarian romance. 

"Shrieking viragos" is from Ruby in the Smoke by Philip Pullman; "penchant for the dramatic" is from "Dogma" I think, but I picked it up in something by Evie. (Read her stuff, by the way. Insane and occasionally nude Marauders can really brighten up your holiday. And read "The Scarlet Pimpernel" while you're at it.) Aunt Tilly is from the movie "A Christmas Story," the witty bastard comment is from "Catcher in the Rye," and I give up cataloging all this. Feel free to keep track on your own. Points will not be awarded.

Next chapter- Interlude

Ron fights Harry. Ron fights Seamus. Creevey takes pictures and sells them on ebay.


End file.
